Bees and Honey
by pearlbutton328
Summary: Freddie is the type of guy who does right by everything. So, it's kind of a wonder that he got stuck with this punishment, or any punishment at all.
1. Chapter 1

**Yet another fic by me! I got really sick of my procrastination and forced myself to sit still in front of my computer to write this out. It's another idea I had for a long time. The mention of the burn book borrowed from none other than Mean Girls.**

**Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! You guys are the reason I continue writing for this fandom. My bread and butter... and water. So enjoy!**

**- - - -**

You see, the thing is, Freddie's never been involved in a brawl before. He always did right by everything. Every morning, he would wake up two hours before school started in order to brush his hair until it lay flat on his head, look over any past and future class assignments, and toast his bread to a light brown perfection. Before he got out of the car, he would flash a bright grin in the mirror to make sure that his teeth were looking great, straighten out any crease or wrinkle in his shirt, and kiss his mother farewell—regardless of the other students stifling their hearty snickering behind fists.

Freddie was the type of guy who got grades so excellent that even his instructors would glare enviously. In class, his teachers would harp on about how great a student he is and how everyone ought to look at him for instruction, and whenever there was a group project to be done, he would be elected team leader because everyone relied on him to make sure that the job was exceptional and submitted punctually. In fact, it was no secret around Ridgeway High that he was pretty much a shoe-in for Class President, that of which he was absolutely excited about running for next year. He had awesome friends—Carly, who he could talk to and trust in about pretty much everything, and who was pretty and was absolutely everything he wanted in a best friend and confidante; Sam, who he could relax with and be himself around, despite the chance of getting at least one fresh bruise on his arm every other day because of his fascination in all things technology; and Gibby, with whom he could play video games and pig out with—on string cheese, of course, because he wouldn't want to disobey his mother and take in a lot of unnecessary and dangerous sugar—and if Gibby decided to go topless every now and then, well, Freddie had no problem with turning the other cheek.

Suffice it to say, Freddie was a good guy. A nice guy, a dependable guy, a guy who knew proper punctuation and the difference between a planet and a really big asteroid.

So it was with great wonder and a huge amount of dread pooling in his stomach that Freddie found himself in the middle of one of the biggest scuffles that Ridgeway High had ever seen.

It had all started with Carly succumbing to the wiles of an older student named Joey Wallace and his ex girlfriend growing horribly bitter over their union. She had created a book of nasty gossip about each student and, in her jealousy, spread the word that the book was all Carly's doing. Carly had been quick to shut the rumor down after Sam had put the third student in a sleeper hold and was risking the threat of a months' worth of detention, and the pandemonium had hushed up until the point where photocopies of the book's pages were found spread over every wall and floor of the high school.

Sasha Beck had been the first girl to pick up one of the papers which had, coincidentally, had something written on it about her, and then promptly turned to her best friend, Angela McGerr, shouting, "I trusted you not to tell my secret, and here it is, on a piece of paper in the middle of the freaking hall!"

While Angela stood gaping, the rest of the students in the hall had each picked up a sheaf of paper almost collectively and only ten seconds had passed before all hell broke loose.

"Ay, dios mio!" Freddie squealed and ducked out of the way of a notebook that was flying straight for his head. He pressed his back against a locker and searched through wayward limbs and flying paper for Carly, who he was sure was by his side just a minute ago. She couldn't have gone far, he reasoned with himself, so she shouldn't be getting hurt. Afterall, Freddie was pretty sure that most of these students were out for her blood, and once they get a glimpse of her, they'd let go of each other's hair and come fuming toward her.

He gulped, and somewhere in the crowd, he could hear Sam cackling.

"Freddie!" He heard his name shouted and looked to his left to see a short girl with wavy brown hair angrily staring him down.

He held his textbook tighter against his chest and shrunk back against the lockers, but only just a little bit. "Valerie?"

A sheet of paper clutched angrily in her hand was waved in his face. "What's this I read about me being a soulless vixen who only wants boyfriends to promote myself and eat them alive?"

Freddie's mouth opened and closed as he tried to search for something to say. He knew that he should deny, deny, deny—kind of like how Spencer taught him in order to get himself out of very sticky situations, like that one time when Sam and Carly had run out of the Groovy Smoothie without paying for their drinks and Spencer and Freddie, both, were too strapped for cash to pay their share—but in actuality, what Freddie could remember of Valerie was that she _was_ kind of soulless. She had toyed with his affections only to endorse her web show, and had almost cost him a few great friendships. But that was years ago, and he was completely over it, so why couldn't she be?

Oh right, the burn book.

Freddie glanced down at the paper, and then at her angry face, and came up with, "Um… it was ninth grade." His voice might have went up at the end, making it sound like more of a question than it was, but he didn't have enough time to muster up what little courage he seemed to possess and repeat it as a statement before a door came crashing open on Valerie's back. She stumbled into him, and Freddie grabbed her arms to steady her as he saw Carly step into sight.

Valerie huffed and harshly pulled away from him before growling at Carly. "You!"

Carly, looking completely confused, said, "Me?"

"You," Valerie yelled and bumped Carly's arm with her shoulder as she stomped around the baffled girl and into the bathroom she had just come out of.

Carly raised a brow at Freddie, who shrugged in answer, and slowly looked around the hall before settling her gaze on him. "I run to the restroom really quick, and this is what happens?" Freddie, completely relieved to see that she was unharmed, gave her a wry smile in return, and she nodded, a smirk lifting one corner of her lips. "Cool. What's the occasion?"

"Everyone's prepping for the MMA Smackdown that's airing this Sunday," Sam grunted as she was knocked against a locker. She wiped sweat off her forehead and grinned maniacally at Carly. "It's absolutely wild! You in?"

Carly scoffed and barely jumped out of the way in time of a sandal barreling toward her. "With a face like this? I think I'll pass."

Sam shook her head and set her amused gaze on Freddie. "Freddie, you in?"

Shocked that she would ask such a ridiculous question, he gave her a dry look before replying, "Let me think about that for a minute—no."

"Ugh, you're such a wimp!"

"And you're such a liar. The occasion is this," he said, and reached behind him for one of the papers taped to a locker. "Stefanie made photocopies of the burn book and tossed them everywhere. So now everyone is angry at each other and fighting and I really hope I don't get in trouble for this because my mom would string me up by my bowels. Literally, she would put on huge yellow rubber gloves and turn me inside out and maybe while my stomach is trailing to the floor, she'll find time to spray it down with disinfectant, and I'll forever be known as the boy who poops through the side of his stomach into a plastic bag. Really! You don't know my mom! She dated someone in the army!" He stopped at the stunned look on Carly's face and took a breath, glancing at the paper he held in his hand. He did a double-take. "Wait, this is about me!"

He had only just enough time to read three words of the page before it was snatched out of his hand, balled up in Carly's fist, and tossed to the floor.

"Whatever it is that is on that paper is not worth reading."

Freddie sighed and looked out at the crowd of bickering students. "If only everyone else knew that."

Just then, a bullhorn sounded, and Freddie nearly jumped out of his skin. Every student in that hall paused from biting arms and tugging hair and grappling on the floor to search for the source of the incredibly loud noise. On the top of the steps leading up to the second floor stood Principal Franklin and Mr. Howard, both of whom were looking down at the crowd in surprise and disgust, respectfully.

Principal Franklin raised a bullhorn to his mouth. "Everyone, report to the cafeteria. Now!"

The students grumbled and groaned as they picked themselves up and began trudging to the cafeteria. Freddie was thinking of slipping into the boys' restroom to avoid having to be spoken to with the bunch of delinquents because, for one, he did not want to be lumped in the same punishment—that of which he was sure would be suspension—because his mother had a retractor and he was sure that she was not afraid to use it, and secondly, he had no part in this mess. He was sure of it.

He was halfway into the boys' bathroom, Sam plastered on his back and pushing him in, trying to hide away with him, when he paused and his gut clenched quite nauseatingly.

"You three, Carly Shay, Fredward Benson, and Samantha Puckett, you're not going anywhere."

Sam rolled her eyes and shouted over the grumbling students, "The name is Sam, Ted!"

Principal Franklin's lips were set in a thin line before he called through the bullhorn, "I want to see the three of you in my office in five minutes."

Freddie choked—on air, on saliva, on whatever—and Carly thumped him on the back until he caught his breath. "I'm dead," he moaned.

"Freddie, you are not the one your mother wants to kill. You're like, her little baby," Sam said in her non-consoling reassuring way as she trudged ahead of them to the main office.

"That's right," Carly agreed. "It's Sam she wants to hang by her bowels."

"How can you take this so lightly?" He had to ask when he saw the smirk on Carly's face. He expected Sam to be jolly about having yet another punishment and tally on her permanent record. Everyone knew that she took some sick sort of pleasure at being the rebellious one. And surely, when Freddie glanced at the blonde firecracker, it was only to see her bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, brows raised delightfully under her bangs.

However, as long as he's been in Carly's life, he never knew her to be nonchalant about things—crisis's—such as this one.

She bit her lip and twisted her fingers in front of her before she replied. "I'm not. I'm just trying to remain optimistic. What's the worst he can give to people completely guilt-free?"

They came across Ms. Briggs, who led them into the office. Before sitting down, Sam scowled at her and said, "You know, I'm beginning to think that you take joy in seeing students cry."

Ms. Briggs tossed her head back and her laugh made the frown deepen on Sam's head. "You know me too well, Sam Puckett."

"All of the afterschool detentions have to amount to something," Freddie grumbled before wincing as Sam's fist met his arm.

"Keep on talking, nub," Sam said and they scowled at each other before Principal Franklin strolled in. Sam sighed and put her feet up on his desk, crossing her ankles, and said, "Ted, my favorite guy in the world. What's up?"

"What's up?" He sat heavily in his chair and drummed his fingers on his desk, giving each of them a stern look. "What's up is that you cost the school hundreds of dollars in damage, you cost about forty students a few beautiful spring weeks of afterschool detention, and you've got yourself in huge trouble."

"Huge?" Freddie squeaked. He had to concentrate on breathing slowly so as to not hyperventilate.

Franklin set his strict gaze on Freddie. "Colossal."

"You don't even know that it was us," Carly said in a rush, and her fingers were turning white from where they gripped the arms of the chair.

"It's always you and your ragtag group of misfits."

"Ragtag? Have I gone to sleep and woken up in the fifties?" Freddie squeezed Sam's wrist to get her to shut her mouth, but she only scrunched up her face and asked him, "Who says ragtag anymore?"

"Samantha," Franklin said, bringing their attention back to him. He knocked her feet off the desk and adjusted his name plate before continuing. "I'm assuming that you had a big part in this?"

"You assume wrong," she answered, twirling a lock of hair around her finger in a bored fashion. "This time, we had absolutely nothing to do with this."

Franklin unfolded his hands and sat back in his chair. "I've been hearing about a burn book?"

Freddie felt like throwing up. "Is this going on my permanent record?"

"Yeah, that my boyfriend's ex girlfriend made out of spite!" Carly interrupted before Franklin could reply. "She's been spreading rumors that I made it, but it wasn't me. Honest."

The principal gave them a hard stare before sighing and seeming to deflate. "Well, I'm sorry to say but all fingers are pointing to you."

"Oh no," Freddie groaned. "My mom is going to kill me."

"And then she'll kill me!"

"Carly!" Sam shook her head in disbelief. "Look, Ted, you know it wasn't us, so let us off the hook. We can walk out of here with a clean slate and no one needs to know about what was said in here. I won't even tell anyone that you gorge yourself on Fig Newters and cry yourself to sleep watching Titanic every Friday night."

"Sam!" Principal Ted sat straighter in his chair and smoothed down his tie, sending a panicked glance toward Ms. Briggs. "I thought we already agreed that you wouldn't say anything about that. Remember? Bacon Taco Thursday?"

"Oh, yeah," she said and sent a lazy smile Freddie's way, patting her stomach. "Those are delicious."

Franklin cleared his throat. "Regardless, someone has to be punished for this. Now, you could either take your suspension or perform some kind of good will for the school."

At the word suspension, Freddie had tucked his head in between his knees and was working on taking steady breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth to keep his perfectly toasted toast from making a second appearance. Carly's warm hand was a nice reassurance on the back of his neck.

From his vantage point, he could see Sam's bright sneakers tapping rhythmatically against the carpeted floor. "Hmm… I don't know. Suspension sounds pretty appealing."

"No, suspension sounds pretty frightening," Carly said and Sam laughed. "What's our second choice?"

"Well, we have the Ridgeway Spring Show coming up soon, and—"

"No way am I performing some pathetic play in front of lonely housewives with a bunch of nubs," Sam interrupted, and the heel of her sneaker bounced against the floor. "I've had enough prancing around on stage for a lifetime."

"Sam, the beauty pageant was ages ago," Freddie said from the spot between his legs.

"And?" she goaded. "The hundreds of beady eyes on me still haunt my nightmares."

"I don't think you have much choice in the matter here, Sam. Unless you would like for Ms. Briggs to pick out your alternate punishment."

"Capital penalization," Ms. Briggs supplied, and Freddie could practically hear Sam gulp.

"Fine, I'll do your play."

"Carly?" Franklin questioned.

"Absolutely," she answered.

"Freddie?"

Freddie raked fingers through his hair. So, his choice was to either spend countless days after school in the stuffy auditorium, most likely dressed up in costume and having to slather huge amounts of suntan lotion on his face and arms in order to keep from burning from the rays of the overhead stage lights, or risk becoming a collegiate pariah for the huge ink blot that's sure to stain his permanent record if he chose the route of being suspended. It was such an easy choice.

Principal Franklin didn't even have to ask.

Freddie looked up into Franklin's eyes and nodded. "Definitely, I'm in."

He was pretty sure that it couldn't be that bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't ever ask this, but I found that it's done wonders in helping me along with continuing a story, so if you have any small moment to spare at all, please don't hesitate to be kind, rewind, and leave a review 3**

**- - - -**

It kind of _was_ that bad.

Freddie puzzled at the assignment laid before them in the form of a huge stack of papers stapled sloppily together into a packet. Mr. Howard had handed it to them—or more like tossed it to them, if the way that Carly buckled under the weight of the papers was any indication— earlier and reminded them that the dreadful Spring Show was only six weeks away, and then had thrown them for a loop when he said in his usually annoying evil voice that the stipulation was to turn the screenplay into a musical.

Normally, Freddie would have no problem with reading something this huge, with so many pages that he could wallpaper his entire apartment and still have some sheets left over for the iCarly studio, because besides learning about technology and film, one of his favorite things to do would be reading—and he spends at least three hours a day on Wikipedia, but he's not quick to let anyone know that—but this task was kind of insane. He could hardly come up with words for a poem, much less transform a gigantic screenplay into lyrics for a musical.

And don't let him get started about his dancing skills, or lack thereof.

He took a sip of his water to quell his roiling stomach somewhat and turned another page. "Fuffley and… Peeta?" Combined with the headache threatening to split his skull and anxiety toward the project laid before him, he felt dangerously like hunting down the author who gave his or her characters these names and stabbing them with a blunt shoe until they were drained of all of their blood. But then again, he might just be channeling his inner Sam; he found himself thinking like her more often than he felt comfortable with.

Maybe he should put in a word with his mother about going to see a psychologist.

"Not it," Carly called out, adjusting her sunglasses on her nose. She sat across from him on the bench, on the side where the sun's rays were strongest, and twirled a straw between her lips. Her hair was spread across her shoulders, covering part of her face, and the shades were so dark that it was impossible to see through, but even so, nearly half of the students who walked by their table sneered at her. She scrunched farther in her seat, laying her chin on the back of her crossed wrists.

Freddie shook his head and turned yet another page. "Then we'll just have to find another character for you."

"Freddie, you know that I get stage fright."

"Says the girl who's been the main host on her web show for about three years now." He gave her a dry look, but couldn't keep the smile from playing across his lips. "Try again."

She ran fingers through her hair to straighten it even further and sighed. "Freddie, you do know there's a difference between you and Sam and the internet, and five hundred people watching live, right?"

"The auditorium can't even fit that many people, Carly. Try again."

"I'm not trying anything; I just don't want to be on stage, okay?"

"It's part of the punishment, Carly, and you've got to do your part." When Carly groaned like she was dying, Freddie looked up from the packet and narrowed his eyes at her. "Look, I'm taking part of the fall for you, and the least you could do is to quit complaining."

"The fall for me? Freddie, I'm just as innocent as you are."

"Maybe you would be if you didn't snag up Joey only two days after he and Stefanie split."

Carly shook her head and looked away, stretching her arms across the table. The thin turquoise watch on her wrist gleamed in the sunlight, almost blinding in the way that the reflection struck Freddie's eyes. "It's not my fault, okay?" She said, and flicked a finger against a paper. "It's not my fault."

Freddie sighed. He had to admit that she was right. Even while Joey had been with Stefanie, he had been trying to get with Carly. His story was that Stefanie was too demanding and not at all the girl for him, and no matter how many times he tried to break up with her, she would just shoot down his attempts, feed him some line about how they could fix the already broken relationship, and would cling onto him tighter than before. Freddie had to feel for the guy; it must have been hard being with an unshakeable girl like that.

It was only so unfortunate that his ex possessed the ability to hold extreme grudges and throw insane temper tantrums in order to get her way. And the way she is going about this, as evident by half of the student body, is by slowly turning everyone against Carly. He knew that Carly was extremely put out by the fact that no one seemed to want to talk to her, or even be around her, and she was trying not to let her dejection show, but Freddie knew her inside and out—prided himself on that fact, actually—and if there was anything Carly wasn't at that moment, it was alright.

So he let this moment of arguing with her slide, but he wasn't going to allow her to skip on her part of the deal. She'd have a character to play by the end of this school day, he was sure of it.

Freddie had gone back to skimming over the pages of the screenplay when Sam landed by his side with a huge huff, slamming her backpack down on his papers. He glared at her and she returned his look with a scowl of her own.

"I cannot _wait_ until lunch detention ends. I'm missing out on half of my valuable grub time!"

"Yeah, but you make up for lost time in the next class, anyway."

Sam paused and nodded. "True," she said, and then gathered her hair up in a ponytail high on her head and reached over her bag for Freddie's. "Whatcha got in here, Frednerd?"

He shrugged and rubbed fingers roughly across his head. "Whatever's in there is yours. My stomach is way too upset to keep anything in it."

"Do you have a bug or something?" Sam asked, and in a show of rare caring, she placed the back of her hand on his forehead. Freddie leaned into it briefly, feeling a small reprieve from his aching head.

"He's been like that all weekend," Carly answered and pushed Sam's backpack off the table. She dragged the papers toward her and nudged the sunglasses on the top of her head before leafing through the screenplay. Her mouth stretched wide in a yawn.

"Why didn't you call me?" Sam asked, presumably to the both of them. "My mom has a ton of over the counter medicine that I could have given you."

"They're so not over the counter," Freddie groaned, and frowned when Sam's hand left his head.

"Okay, so maybe they're illegal," she said and shrugged, ripping open the clear bag holding Freddie's sandwich. "But I know they're better than what your crazy mom has to offer."

"My mom is a nurse, Sam."

She gave him a look that read, _So?_ and bit into the sandwich. Freddie watched in sick fascination as she chewed her bite and took another without swallowing, repeating the motion until her mouth was fit to burst with food. Honestly, he wondered how she had managed to go this long into her life without choking at least once; everyone knew that to be totally safe against choking on food, you had to take small bites and chew at least ten times before swallowing. Or at least, that's what Freddie knew.

But then again, he also knew to triple-knot his shoe laces and perform self-injected vaccinations, so maybe his mother was just a little overzealous with his safety. In any case, he wouldn't want to take the 'Sam' way, the dangerous approach to life that could spawn cavities and bite marks in strange places, and maybe two nights spent in a jail cell.

Sam caught him looking at her and raised a brow. "What do you want?" she said, and it came out muffled beneath her mouthful.

Freddie winced. "Just keeping an eye on you so I know when to perform the Heimlich when you start choking."

"Ha… ha. So funny, I forgot to laugh."

"_I _forgot what I just read," Carly said, and looked at them. "Seriously, this play is too boring to be real."

"Is it a play about Freddie's life?" Sam asked and Carly laughed before pushing the packet to Sam. She stuffed the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and barely dusted the crumbs and whatever else off her hands before she picked it up. Freddie watched her eyes narrow a fraction as they skimmed down the page, and Sam let out an amused snort before she tossed it down. "Okay, whoever named the girl _Fuffley_ should be pushed off a bridge. And not just any bridge, but a bridge where the ropes are made of thorns and the bottom is all jagged rocks surrounded by lava where evil Franny Briggs rule supreme." And then she smiled at Carly, turned up the wattage on Freddie, and said, "I could totally do this character the justice she deserves!"

Freddie was quick to shake his head, and he clutched the script against his chest. "Oh no, Sam. You'll ruin it."

"Like it isn't ruined already?" She arched a brow and Carly nodded in agreement, pulling a curtain of hair over her face as yet another scowling student passed by their table. "C'mon, Freddie, let me play Fuffley. I'm perfect for the role."

"Almost _too_ perfect," Carly said through a grin.

"No, Sam! I mean, Fuffley is a sad girl who lives a horrible existence with her brother under the negligent rule of her father."

"So?" Sam scoffed and shoved his shoulder. "It's not like you have anyone else lining up to play the role."

"But…" Freddie started, resolute on arguing Sam against this.

"Where's the fairness in that?" Carly countered. "Sam's a part of this punishment, too, and just like I have to play a character in this production, so should she. Just be glad that she _picked_ a character."

Freddie nearly wilted under Carly's expressive stare. Nearly, but not quite. "But, I—"

Again he was cut off, and Sam rolled her eyes as she questioned spitefully, "Are you in love with the character, or something?"

He nearly gagged. "What? No! I'm planning on playing her brother. You know, Peeta?"

"Oh, I get it," Sam said and gave him a nasty look. "You just don't want to play alongside me."

"No," Freddie said, using the tactic he learned to deny, deny, deny. "I just don't want you turning this play into a comedy."

"Carly," Sam whined, looking to her best friend for help, and Carly was just working up a reply when Gibby stopped by their table. Carly scooted into the bench to allow his some space and he thanked her before turning to Freddie.

"So, I hear you're in charge of the new play, The Englishman Who Was a Terrible Father to His Two Children Named Fuffley and Peeta."

Sam let out a huge snort and giggle, and Gibby's confident smile faltered. "That's what this _thing _is called?"

"Feel free to laugh all you want, Sam. It's going to have a different title once I'm done converting it into a musical. Anyway," he looked back toward Gibby. "What's up?"

"I read that story when I was younger and I just wanted to know if there were any openings for a character." Gibby stole glances toward Sam throughout his inquiry, who continued to laugh until she began hiccupping.

"Um, yeah, everything's pretty much open. What part would you like?"

"Well…" Gibby smirked and passed a thumb over his chin, and Freddie could swear that he saw him flex a muscle in his bicep. "I'm sort of trying to change up my dynamic a little bit, and I think it would be in my best intentions for my acting career if I were to take the role of the Englishman."

Sam snorted once again behind her hand. "You _cannot_ jumpstart a career off of something titled The Englishman Who Was a Terrible Father to His Two Children Named Fuffley and Peeta."

"I'd like to take my chances," he said and gave Freddie a hopeful look. "Well?"

"Of course you have the role," Freddie said around a bright smile. He was delighted that Gibby had asked. Freddie was only five minutes from dragging Gibby to be in his play anyway, whether he liked it or not.

"Awesome," he said, and looked between Carly and Freddie. "When do rehearsals start?"

"When we finish changing that huge thing into a musical," Carly replied, and Gibby grinned brighter and said awesome one more time before skipping off in that jolly way that only he seemed to possess.

Freddie took another sip of his water and ran fingers through his hair, carelessly messing it up. "Great. So now, all we need is four more people."

"Make that three," Sam said and chucked the plastic wrap from the sandwich at him. "This whole thing you're doing where you pretend that I'm not playing Fuffley is tiring."

"Sam, you're not—"

"I am," she said, and scooped up her backpack before turning on her heels away from them.

Carly raised a brow at Freddie, who just shook his head, but when a group of girls walked past them, she pulled her shades back down over her eyes. "Seriously, if you put me on that stage, they will throw tomatoes at me."

Freddie smirked to himself. "Try again, Carly. I'm sure that Sam will be there to protect you from any harm with her big mouth opened wide enough to catch every tomato."

"Or maybe I'll just smash them in your hair, mess up that perfect style," Sam whispered in his ear, causing him to jump out of his skin.

He tried to still his rapidly beating heart as he twisted in his seat to glare at her. "You, Sam Puckett, are made of pure evil."

"With sugar on top," she said and let ponytail out, her hair tumbling down to her elbows.

"Yum, pure evil with sugar on top. That sounds kind of like ice cream." Carly ran her hand across Freddie's crown as she walked around the table to stand by Sam's side. "Catch up, Freddie; class starts in a few minutes."

Freddie grumbled to himself as they walked off, shoulders bumping. He was so unsure about Sam starring in the play that it made him sick. Truth be told, even though he had long since gotten over his crush on Carly, he wanted her to play Fuffley, and not anyone else. He thought that he could share this experience with her and that they would come out of this closer than ever, but Sam choosing to play the other lead had thwarted his plans.

And Freddie was nothing if not meticulous in anything that he did, whether it be doing homework or fixing a bowtie, or even running a play he had no interest in whatsoever, and so the person he wanted to have as big a role as him had to be somewhat of a perfectionist as well. The only person Freddie personally knew beside himself who would look over her homework at least as half as many times as he did and took three-hour showers at the very least would be Carly. Sam, the total opposite, was more like a tornado, and he was absolutely frightened at the thought of sharing a stage with her.

He supposed he would have to get over it, one way or another. Besides, who knows, Sam could actually prove to be quite an actress.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam chewed aggressively on her gum as she walked down the hall away from her history class, affording a trashcan that stood in her path a kick. She was not in a good mood, and also very bored. One lethal combination.

Carly had been giving her the cold shoulder ever since the beginning of the school day. Honestly, it wasn't entirely Sam's fault that the paper she lent her went missing. Sam didn't know that she had a hole the size of China in the side of her backpack, so not only was Carly's paper missing, but the book that Sam had borrowed without notification to the library was gone as well.

And she was just getting into it!

She ducked to the side of a row of lockers as she saw one of the Audio Visual nerds coming her way, and wondered, not for the first time, why all of Freddie's geek friends thought it was a good idea to take up the supreme role as hall monitors. They were disliked enough as it was, no need to add more vitriol against themselves.

She continued her trek down the abandoned hall as soon as she saw that the coast was clear and swiped her bangs away from her head as she peered in a mostly-empty classroom that served as a few students' sixth period study hall. Freddie was seated where she thought she would find him; at the front of the class near the blackboard, hunched over a textbook like the good little student he was. Only, he was not the only one leaning over his desk to look at the book. Valerie was there, also, in her light spring dress and purple cardigan, grinning in Freddie's face as her finger traced words on the pages.

Her lips were moving and Freddie looked like he was trying to stifle a laugh, lightly grasping her wrist and shaking his head as he repeated the words back to her.

Sam rolled her eyes and kicked open the classroom door, and then scowled at the heads that came up to peer questioningly at her.

"J'aime spaghetti et boulettes de viande."

"Valerie, so nice to see you again for the third time today," Sam greeted, cutting into her and Freddie's conversation.

"Oh. Hi, Samantha." Valerie sat back in her seat and rolled her eyes toward two girls before smiling saccharinely at Sam. The two girls, as far as Sam knew, were also on the cheerleading squad Valerie was on, was maybe as dumb as a sack of bricks, and were the brunette's lackeys. In other words, completely irrelevant. Not that Valerie was in any way relevant.

Not that Sam cared about Valerie.

Freddie, on the other hand, looked up at her in surprise, his brows shooting upwards to his hairline. "Sam! I thought that you had class with Carly this period."

"You thought right, Fredward," she replied and leaned against the edge of a desk, the gum popping in her mouth.

A smirk slowly formed on Freddie's lips. "Skipping again?"

"I wouldn't say again, seeing as how it's kind of an ongoing thing. It never stops."

"I see. So, why are you here and not roaming around outside the school like you usually do?"

"There's a such thing as too fresh air. I know, shocking." She sighed and drummed her fingers against her thighs. "I am so sick of Carly right now."

"You know, Sam, she never did anything wrong except be angry with you."

"And that's the thing. I tell her it's not entirely my fault, and it's like she just doesn't want to listen. I don't understand how she can still be so ticked off at me. What's the worst that could happen to her? Going down a grade letter?"

"And it's kind of a big deal. You're the only one who doesn't care about grades."

"'Come on, Freddie…" Sam shook her head. "It's not worth giving up on—"

"As much as I'd hate to disrupt your riveting conversation, Freddie," Valerie interrupted, apprehensive smile on her face. "I still need help with my French."

"She's right, Sam. I… you know, tutoring." Freddie shrugged and turned around in his seat, away from Sam.

"That's right, tutoring," Valerie unhelpfully added. "So run along now, and maybe get back to class before you _completely_ fail junior year."

The two girls tittered and Sam narrowed her eyes, leaning close to her. "You can stick your French up your a—"

"J'aime spaghetti avec des boulettes de viande," Freddie said to Valerie and shot Sam a disproving look. "See what I did there? The third word had a silent letter."

Valerie flipped her hair over her shoulder and placed her hand over Freddie's. "Not quite, but I'd like to take you for some… boulettes de viande."

Sam couldn't help but laugh when Freddie's eyes opened as wide as saucers as he began spluttering, and she smirked at the stricken look across Valerie's face. "Smooth," she said before rising from her seat. She ignored the glare Valerie and her cronies sent her and patted Freddie's back as she leaned into his personal space. "Meet me on the field after you're done with this chick and her bimbettes. We have stuff to discuss."

Valerie's jaw literally hit the floor and before Sam slipped out of the classroom, she heard Freddie consolingly say, "Don't mind her. She's just Sam."

::: ::: ::: :::

The clouds broiled overhead and wind gusted, fanning wild hair across her face, and Sam growled before looking down at the notebook she held in her lap. She scratched out a few words with the tip of her pencil and continued writing beneath the marred line, resolute about completing this task, and at the same time ticked off that she _had_ a task to do. Seriously, what happened to regular detentions and spankings with rulers?

Sam cringed. Okay, the ruler thing could be marked out.

"Sam!"

She looked up at the shout of her name and had to stifle a smile at the sight of Freddie running toward the bleachers from halfway across the field, bag askew across his chest. She also had to suppress a weird feeling of yearning in her chest, swallowing it down until she could breathe again.

According to Sam, the affection was horribly misplaced. There's no way she could have a crush on Freddie. There was just something wrong with the planet and moon's alignment, or something. The positions must have been off for months.

"Sam, hey," Freddie panted, stopping to an abrupt halt. "What's up? What did you want to talk about?"

And then he smiled and Sam felt like smiling back, but she settled instead on growling to herself. She barely gave him a second's breather before thrusting her notebook at him.

He clutched it to his chest and adjusted his bag, giving her a confused look. "What's this for?"

"Freddie," she said and gave him a deadpan look, brushing her hair away from her face. She could see realization blossoming on his expression, and she steeled herself for the argument.

"Oh, no, Sam. No," he shook his head and held the notebook toward her.

"But, Freddie, you're so good at it and I can barely think of what to write, so could you just do this one thing for me? Please?"

"Sam, this is your scene to write."

"Please?" she pleaded, pouting her lips so far down her face that she had to spare a thought of how cool it'd be if her expression got stuck that way.

He looked to be considering her for a moment before shaking his head. "Not gonna work; you have the worst puppy-dog eyes in the world."

"Please," she whined and batted her eyes for a good measure, and chuckled when she noticed him giving in. "Thanks, Freddie."

"Whatever. But I only do this until the end of the period."

"Okay." She shrugged and followed him up the steps.

"That means that if I'm not done, then you have to write the rest yourself."

"That's totally fine," she lied, took a seat next to him on the bench at the top of the bleachers. She gave him a few minutes' time of rewriting the lyrics in the notebook, and then smirked at him. "So, stud muffin, I see you're trying to aim for the queen of the cheerleading squad."

"No, I'm not trying to get with her," Freddie replied, biting the end of the pencil between smiling lips.

"She asked you out on a date in that stupid French way."

"Uh… no. We were going over what she needed help with, actually."

"Freddie, she asked you on a date," she retorted, maybe a little too sharply.

"Oh," he said, his eyes going wide and something like delight changing his expression. "I didn't know."

Sam made a disgusted sound and leaned farther back, turning her scowl away from him. "I don't know what you see in her, anyway."

"Okay, Sam, what is wrong with you now? Not enough bacon this morning?"

_Try a bit too much Valerie soup,_ Sam thought. She didn't answer Freddie and he soon turned his gaze away from her and went back to the lyrics.

"Anyway," he added a minute later. "She asked me if she could be in the play."

She gave him an incredulous look and waited for him to return her attention before saying, "Tell her no."

He scoffed and shook his head. "I can't just do that. We _do_ need someone else to fill the role of the woman who makes out with the Englishman."

"There's always Carly."

"Sam…"

"No," she said. "You don't get it. Valerie is an attention seeker. She stops at absolutely nothing to be seen and heard. She's a complete life-ruiner and she'll screw everything up."

"She can be kind of abrasive, but deep down inside, she's sort of a nice person."

"She spits acid, and the final answer is no."

Freddie narrowed his eyes at her before violently tapping the pencil against the notebook settled in his lap. "You don't run the play, Sam, so you don't _get_ final answer."

She gaped. "Fine! How about I call Carly, and ask her about her opinion on this matter, because I'm absolutely sure that she's the last person we need in order to make decisions." Sam pulled her phone out and began dialing Carly's number, but Freddie swiped it out of her hands. She gave him a murderous look.

He returned the stare. "There's no need for all of this."

"And why is that? Oh, yeah! Because Carly also hates Valerie, much like the rest of the female population in the world. Can you guess which direction her vote is going to lean?" When Freddie only continued to stare at her with pursed lips and furrowed brows, Sam took a deep breath and let it out. She stood up and brushed the seat of her pants off. "You want to be with a complete social climber? Fine. Just don't expect a shoulder from me when you get caught up in the fame and glory and become a shell of yourself."

"When have I ever expected a shoulder from you, honestly, out of all people?"

She crossed her arms and looked away, and had to admit that he was kind of right. Freddie had never shown himself to be a person who needed to seek solace in anyone. He was strong-willed, independent, and as much as Sam hated to think it, really good at being completely in charge of whatever he found his main focus on. It was kind of endearing in a really big way, and Sam pulled a face.

But still, the last thing she wanted was Valerie anywhere near the vicinity of Freddie. It was a friend thing; she would do it for Carly, as well, if her best friend were setting her sights on a complete douche. "She'll tear you into pieces."

"Not unless you do it first. I mean, just the thought of me and Valerie dating makes you look absolutely dangerous. I can't imagine how you'd be if Valerie and I _were_ to actually start going out," he said, and Sam nostrils flared in anger, but his tugging on her arm made her expression soften. He gave her a lopsided smile. "Come on, sit down."

She took his command, leaned into him briefly before wrapping her arms around her legs. "What is it with guys and their inability to take good advice?" She glanced at him and saw the same goofy smile on his face. "I really hate you, Freddie."

He ran his hand across her head, messing her hair up a bit more beyond repair, and laughed at the way she gasped. "The sentiment's kind of, a little bit, reversed."


End file.
